Muller knew what this drawl meant. It was the manner adopted by
the amiable commissioner when he was in a mood which was not amiable.
And Muller knew also the cause of the mood. It was his own last
remark, the words he addressed to Bormann. Muller himself recognised
the fact that this remark was out of place, that it was almost an
impertinence, because it was in direct contradiction to a statement
made a few moments before by his superior officer. Also he realised
that his remark had been quite unnecessary, because it was a matter
of indifference to the young man, who was only obeying his employer's
orders in reporting what he had seen, whether his report was of
value or not. Muller had simply uttered aloud the thought that came
into his mind, a habit of his which years of official training had
not yet succeeded in breaking. It was annoying to himself sometimes,
for these half-formed thoughts were mere instinct - they were the
workings of his own genius that made him catch a suspicion of the
truth long before his conscious mind could reason it out or
appreciate its value. But that sort of thing was not popular in
official police life.

"Well," asked the commissioner, as Muller did not continue, "your
tongue is not usually so slow - as you have proved just a few
moments back - what were you going to say now?"

"I was about to ask your pardon for my interruption. It was
unnecessary, I should not have said it."

"Well, I realise that you know better yourself," said Riedau, now
quite friendly again, "and now what else have you to say? Do you
really think that what the young man has just told us is of any
value at all for this case?"